Page 17 of A Don & His Doll

Macie nodded thoughtfully. "Bring him by the house once he's released. I have something for him," Macie instructed. "I have a meeting with Eric in an hour, so I'll let you two love birds enjoy your brunch," Macie added as she stood, placing her napkin beside her glass. "Promise, I hope this won't be the last time we see each other. We'll all have to get together for dinner once you get settled in," Macie offered warmly.

"I'd like that," Promise replied, standing to lightly embrace Macie. Monroe knew his mother had lied, but he didn't press the issue because he knew she needed time to digest the fact that he had a woman now.

"Ma Dukes! I love you. I'll give you a call once I make it back to New York," he said, embracing his mother and kissing her cheek.

"I love you too, son," Macie replied before walking away.

Monroe and Promise continued on as if they were on their own island, and no one else was there except them. Macie moved toward the exit without hesitation.

Without pause.

Without looking back.

Until she did.

Macie had looked back once, something she never did once she walked away, but that's how potent the love was between Promise and Monroe. Her gaze returned briefly to the table where Monroe leaned slightly toward Promise, listening as she spoke, her hand resting naturally along his arm. They looked right together. Balanced and aligned even. Macie inhaled slowly, steadying her thoughts before continuing toward her car. Love like that had the power to weaken a structure that had taken years to be built.

As soon as Macie had made it to her car, she grabbed her phone to call her pilot.

"Hello, this is Jason," he answered.

"I need to go to Morocco,” Macie said plainly. “How long will it take for you to get the plane ready?"

"I can be ready in two hours," he replied.

"I'll be there," Macie said before hanging up.

Love made powerful men forget what was at stake, but Macie never would.

"A'ight, OG. Keep ya foot on the gas once you touch down. You already know Roe got everything set up for you," Syn said, leaning against the cell wall with his arms crossed.

"Nah, Nah, Nah... I got shit set up for myself," Mitch corrected, shaking his head. "I ain't never depended on the next nigga to do shit for me. You know how I move, young blood. What I always say?"

"If you want somethin' done right, you betta handle that shit yo'self," They said in unison.

Syn cracked up laughing, hating to see his Unc leave. It was bittersweet not because he wasn't happy for him, but because he helped him to focus on other shit besides Amor and his kids all the time. They understood each other because they understood the principle.

"A'ye,” he said, tapping the big stack of books he had on the metal desk in the corner of his cell. “Read these books. Feed ya mind while you run this time up in here. Eat the fish and spit out the bones, and let this time bring out the best in you. Don’t let this place rot what’s good in you. Become a better man outside of this street shit we do," Mitch schooled. "I do this shit 'cause it's all I got, and I was trained to do this shit since birth. We ain't the same. You got a family waitin' for you when you touch down."

Syn’s brow lifted. "Family?" He returned, taken aback.

"Fuckin' right,” Mitch shot back with a smirk. “You got three women to choose from that love you more than you can handle. Now there's one that you love more than you love yourself, and that's why yo' ass fumbled her," Mitch gave him some real shit to chew on. "Stand in yo' shit. Reflect and figure out where you went wrong, and where there’s still room for growth. The streets gon’ always be there, but family… Family gives all this shit a purpose. I got the rest." Mitch said, pulling him into a fatherly embrace.

Mitch had served a purpose in Syn’s life, getting through to him in a way that his biological father should have, but failed. Though Syn wasn't his son, he'd accepted him as such since being locked up together. Everything Mitch had built inside those walls…respect, influence, and rank had quietly transferred to Syn the moment Mitch’s release became official.

Syn had earned it, and no one played with him.

Mitch stepped forward and pulled him into a firm embrace.

“You the new King, rule this shit yo’ way. Whoever don’t fall in line, you know what to do.”

Syn nodded, but didn't say a word as he sat down on his cot once

"Keep ya head right, we'll be in touch soon," Mitch said, tapping his hand on his chest.

“I got‘chu,” Syn said, following suit, repeating the same gesture as Mitch turned to walk away with Officer Williams. Syn grabbed his head phones and put YoungBoy's No F**k on and blasted the song in his ear as he laid back on his cot, and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, Mitch did his final walk-through with his fist in the air as all the inmates on his tier cheered him on, and yelled out encouragement for their OG. Mitch had his hair cut by Moe, New York's finest barber who was serving five years for some bullshit.